Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A/N: Big thank you to Pocket Sevens who helped with the Ilsa part!
~ pact with the devil ~
"You're insane! Do you have any idea what kind of havoc an elephant running rampant can wreak? It'll trample us to death!" The client vowed, should he ever make it out of this situation alive, to have a word with his wife about hiring this Christopher Chance.
Granted, given his momentary situation he should better vow to haunt her as a ghost at midnight, with rattling chains or something, but hope dies last, doesn't it?
"Not if we're riding on its back. Come on, Marshall, trust me!" Chance extended his hand and although everything in Marshall Pucci screamed at him not to do it, he grabbed it.
Ten minutes later the market place and their pursuers were history, at least for now.
And they'd probably be history soon, too, shouldn't they find a way off the bolting elephant sometime in the very near future.
Trust Christopher Chance to come up with an even crazier plan than using the elephant to get away from the market…
"See that river, Marshall? It should be deep enough to cushion our fall. We're going to jump at the count of three – one, two…"
"What do you mean by should?"
"THREE!" It wasn't that Marshall was given much of a choice – Chance grabbed him by the shoulders and together they took a dive in a river that seemed to be serving as the city's sewage system, too.
Oh, Ilsa would so get an earful for this.
Stinking to high heaven, they crawled out of the river a mile or two away from the city.
Only to be welcomed by their pursuers.
Not those that had foolishly tried to stop the elephant, but they belonged to the same pack.
"Seriously, couldn't you have shot us before we jumped into that river? Now I've spent the last few minutes of my life swimming in a cesspool!" Marshall hoped his complaining would buy them some time, till Chance had devised a new plan to get them out of this mess. Although, if the plan included going back into that river…
"I don't think they're going to shoot us, Marshall. They already got more than enough on their plate, they won't want to add double homicide to the list."
Their pursuers didn't exactly look impressed.
"Guerrero, has the tape that proves those CIA agents' involvement in weapon trade and smuggle reached CIA headquarters meanwhile?", Chance said, seemingly talking to thin air.
"You don't really think you can fool us?", the pursuers' leader barked. "There's no way there was a microphone on you."
"Not on us, no", Chance conceded. "But maybe that partner of yours should have checked his nice golden signet ring."
The young thief they had stumbled upon, Ames, had really well-trained pickpocket fingers. They should consider working with her regularly.
"No." The leader still didn't buy it. "You're bluffing. You didn't switch the rings. He would have…"
Chance lifted a finger, indicating that he should turn around and take a look. At that very moment a small military airplane broke through the thick layer of clouds that was obscuring the sky. It circled above them and out parachuted at least a dozen heavily armed CIA agents. Guns at the ready, they slowly floated to the ground.
"That was your plan?" Marshall asked Chance incredulously.
"Well, not exactly, but all in all…." He shrugged and slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get you back to your wife."
… … …
"We cannot put into words how grateful we are, Mr. Chance." Ilsa Pucci shook hands with Chance. "As a simple token of our gratitude we've decided to double the original fee we agreed upon."
"This is very generous of you, Mrs. Pucci. Thank you very much. And should you ever need our services again…" The Puccis shook hands with Winston.
"This associate of yours, Mr…" They had never told the Puccis Guerrero's name. Ilsa hoped somebody would fill in the blank now, but nobody volunteered. "…he has already left?", she finally finished.
"He had a meeting", Winston explained, glancing darkly at Chance when he thought their now ex-clients weren't looking.
"Well, please let him know his assistance was greatly appreciated." Somewhere in the back a telephone began to ring and the Puccis waved their good-byes. They stepped into the elevator.
As the doors hissed shut, Ilsa let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall. "Thank God this is over. I can't wait to get back to London."
Marshall smiled, reached out and slightly lifter her chin. "Confess. You're a tiny bit sorry we're leaving so soon again."
"Don't be ridiculous. Adventures are fine, but I prefer them depicted on a stage or screen."
"You did quite well in that palace. And you've always liked going one on one with people. Sometimes I think it's a shame you're spending your life hopping from one meeting to another. Aside from that, I wasn't talking about the action that you're going to miss." His eyes twinkled.
"Mr. Chance undeniably is a handsome man", Ilsa admitted sheepishly, but Marshall only laughed.
"Naah, not the blond blue-eyed one with the dimple, that would be too easy. I'm talking about the associate whose name they didn't tell us."
Now Ilsa was in indignant. "He looks like a Laotian rock rat!"
Marshall almost toppled over with laughter. "Darling, ever since you joined that committee for the protection of endangered species, your vocabulary has certainly expanded."
Ilsa, however, didn't feel like laughing. "Seriously, Marshall… these people are all moving in sort of a gray zone and have a…checkered… biography, but this man… if it wasn't such a bad simile, I'd say he's definitely from the dark side."
"And it also shows that you're in that movie award committee…"
She punched him lightly against the upper arm. "You cannot imply… and then… I want an explanation."
"He's strong like you. Level-headed. Chance is reckless, crazy. Interesting, but in the long run he'd drive you up the walls…."
"You're just still angry he made you jump into that river." Ilsa was back in the saddle. "Now let's stop talking about other men, I've got you. All bets are off." She bent over to kiss him.
At that very moment the elevator came to a shuddering halt. For a few seconds nothing happened, then the doors were pried open. Christopher Chance was standing on the other side, looking at them, lopsided smile on his face.
"It's for you, Mrs. Pucci." He handed her a telephone.
RING RING … RING RING … RING RING
Still half-caught in her dream, Ilsa groped around on her nightstand, looking for the telephone, almost knocking down the bedside lamp. The space on the mattress next to her was painfully empty.
On the other end of the line was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. "Sorry to wake you, Ilsa, but we've got a new client. You wanna come over?"
"Chance…" Ilsa groaned, squinting at her alarm clock seeing it read four-thirty.
"Well, I can tell her to come back later. Hopefully she's still alive then…"
The way he said that she just knew...
"Be there in thirty", she mumbled, only then realizing that she was copying the team's military way of speaking. "And wipe that bloody smirk off your face!"
Great...now he was laughing at her.
The mirror in the bathroom showed her a middle-aged woman without make-up who had gotten too little sleep lately. The tattoo on her back had become such a common element of her body by now, she didn't even notice it anymore.
God, she missed Marshall.
Connie's message was still on the answering machine: "We need to talk, Ilsa."
Yes, they needed to talk. It was time to make a decision.